


love me until my skin turns to steel

by aerobreaking



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerobreaking/pseuds/aerobreaking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a warm night, just after a bout of lovemaking, with a sick, warm, destructive curl in his stomach he realizes that he has total control of the most powerful woman in the city. Fem!RussiaXAmerica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love me until my skin turns to steel

**Author's Note:**

> note one: so, err, hello! i’m aero-breaking and rusame gives me a lot of feelings. like, lots. they’re my precious babies. anyway, this is my contribution to this pairing! or something like it.
> 
> note two: i have an almost unhealthy weakness for fem!russia and 2p!fem!russia even more. so when i was re-watching black lagoon the other day, 2p!fem!russia reminded me of balalaika (she’s the leader of hotel moscow a fictional segment of the russian mafia) and i just thought: woah, that’d be totally hot. i have to write it out! so then this piece came into existence. (this is like a test run)
> 
> note three: i guess most of the characters will be in 2p!form to some extent. a few warnings i’d like to make before you begin reading: one: this oneshot will probably include drug use, gun use, and mentions of sex and violence. if any of this bothers you please do not proceed. two: a little background info about black lagoon, for those who haven’t read it. black lagoon is a manga by rei hiroe and it takes place in the fictional habor city roanapur located in southeast thailand. this city is where the lowest of the low gather together. this city is home to various organized crime organizations and prostitution and drugs and guns and any other crime you can think of takes place in this city. (in short, it’s hell on earth)
> 
> note four: enjoy! (and give me some feedback if you can find the time and also if you’d be interested in me writing more pieces in this universe) sorry if there are a lot of grammatical mistakes in this.

When Alfred first lands in the filthy harbor of Roanapur he has a vague inkling of what to expect. He says vague because while he had been working for the CIA there had been many reports of the city being home base to one of the worst prostitution rings in the entire Asian continent. But that had been about it.

What he finds is much, much worse.

On his first day he manages to piss of the police chief and soon he has the entire—corrupt—police force on his ass. It consisted of about twenty to twenty six men whose main objective was to shoot as many holes through his corpse as they could. It had gone fucking terrible, as expected, for both the police force and him. He’d blown up Arthur’s torpedo boat, precious thing that it was for the pirate, and thus permanently chained himself to the _Binnorie_. (A real stupid name if you asked Al but Arthur had a thing about fairy tales so he goes a long with it; even if it grates his nerves and makes their whole pirate company seem totally uncool and unthreatening.) As for the police, they’d blown up a food stand that belonged to the Triad and Wang, being the control freak that he was, had sent out one of his most skilled ‘men’ to take care of them.

It had been fun to watch as the tiny Japanese woman scared the living shit out of more than twenty men that were twice her weight and height. Sakura had become a friend of Alfred’s since then, they’d often teamed up for jobs Wang sent them on. Usually involving a gunfight or two and more often than not, destroying Gilbert’s bar. (He’d remodeled the damn thing five times now.)

For his first two years Alfred’s routine consists of drugs, sex, and drinking. He’s killed numerous amounts of people and he’s begun to have nightmares. Ugly nightmares that he hadn’t had since he’d been on an undercover mission in Turkey. (His last assignment, one that went really bad, really quickly.) It’s okay though, because everyone in Roanapur is hiding skeletons (or making more of them _or_ blatantly showing them off), even the holier-than-thou Arthur (Alfred has seen glimpses of it when they walk by Antonio’s whorehouse). Also, the alcohol and heroin make things ten times easier. Of course he doesn’t want to be a complete dumbass and get addicted; that would be the stupidest thing he could do, so the heroin is only used as a last resort, usually six months apart. It’s used when he can no longer wash away the blood from his hands and the broken bones from his dreams.

He wonders how everyone else does it. Like Sakura, whose body count is probably a lot higher than his own, after all, she grew up with one foot in the ‘real’ world and one foot in ‘hell’. Sakura told him once that the only reason she choose to stay in Roanapur was because she owed a life debt to Wang.

The story goes like this: The Japanese woman was to be the next head of a yakuza syndicate, however Sakura wanted to leave the life her father and her grandfather had lead. She wanted so much more out of life than just death and extortion. So she left Japan; left and never looked back. After months of wandering around Asia she finally settled in Shanghai, working at a restaurant, living a poor but morally correct life. Sakura had been nineteen at the time and had, for a relatively long time, lived peacefully. On the eve of her twenty first year however, she had gotten into a scuffle with a member of the Triad. The training her father had given her came in handy and, unfortunately, too effective. She killed that man. And when the Triad came after her she’d challenged Wang Yao. Challenged him, wounded him, and lost terribly.

Normally, she would have been killed. Killed without a second thought, but Wang, being the cunning man that he was, let her live. Live miserably, but live nonetheless. Wang made Sakura swear her life-long loyalty to him, and Wang, without a second thought, dragged Sakura into the life that she had tried so hard to avoid. When Yao had been transferred to Roanapur, Sakura followed. Her skills with a katana and martial arts were assets she had never been more thankful to have. And so the story goes.

Alfred doesn’t like Wang Yao, and once, even had the guts to challenge him for Sakura’s freedom. He would have killed him, Alfred is sure; but Sakura, with that apathetic face of hers, told him to kindly _back the fuck off_. He doesn’t understand why’d she stay with him. If it had been him, he would have fought tooth and nail for his freedom. But he supposes that Sakura had a different way of thinking. One that was based on codes of honor and life-for-life vows.

Whatever the case, Sakura survives. She survives and doesn’t look troubled doing it, unlike him.

Alfred’s story is a lot less dramatic than hers. He grew up in New York, had a loving family, played football, went to college, joined the CIA, and then royally fucked up. Fucked up so bad he had to leave the country and go into hiding. That had been about four years ago, when he was twenty-six. Now he’s thirty and doing things that never even crossed his mind. He’d never considered the notion of living off of someone else’s’ misery. But here he was, and here were all these bodies piling up in his conscious.

He’d kill himself if he had the guts, unfortunately he doesn’t. Suicide isn’t an uncommon occurrence in Roanapur, it usually children and prostitutes but they’ll also be a couple males thrown in there. The city isn’t for the weak-hearted.

Even fucking Arthur, who’s probably the most reasonable person he knows, could survive in this city for close to ten years. That’s how long he’d been a pirate. Ten years of fighting with all the shit this city had to offer and fighting, nonstop, with Francine. (Who could probably snap a man’s neck in two almost as fast as she batted her long, pretty lashes.) It’s been two years since Alfred began working for the English pirate, and while things were getting easier, at the same time they seem to be getting harder.

That is, until he meets the leader of the local Russian mafia.

* * *

 

He wakes up to screaming, not that that is anything new, but he wakes up to _pain stricken_ screaming and that is not new. He’s standing, and reaching for his guns so fast it takes him a minute to analyze the situation. He makes a pause and realizes that the screaming isn’t coming from inside the apartment, it’s outside.

He rushes out, faintly remembering that he’s in nothing but his boxers but he pays it no mind. He’s greeted with a horror stricken Arthur looking down into the street below. There are three black cars parked on the road, about seven men standing in black tuxedoes, and unnaturally blank faces. His eyes, however, are immediately drawn to the woman screaming. A girl, no older than twenty is kneels before them, naked, beaten, and cut up all over. It makes his stomach churn. Besides him Arthur breathes in deeply, Alfred knows he’s schooling his facial features and slipping on his best poker face. One that Alfred envied.

“What’s going on?” Alfred asks.

Arthur’s voice is a cool as a winter breeze. “Business.”

“What the fuck are you—”

“Arthur,” An accented voice that sends shivers down his spine interrupts him. He looks down and there, looking up at them, is probably the most stunning woman Alfred has ever seen. She barely acknowledges him, offering him nothing but a passing glance. “I’ve got a job for you.”

The British man leans against the railing and asks, “Is that right?”

The woman smiles, innocent and cruel, “Yes. You know I don’t take business lightly. May I come up?”

Arthur cocks his head to the side, “Not with that bloody thing lagging behind.” He gestures to the girl.

“Ah, but of course.” She turns her attention to one of the men by the cars and waves her hand in dismissal. They in turn come up behind the girl and drag her to one of the cars, she’s suffocating in her own saliva and tears but that doesn’t make them treat her any more kindly. They shove her into the backseat and it’s the last time Alfred will ever see her.

“Come in.” Arthur says, already turning back to go into the apartment, he stops momentarily and commands Alfred, “And you, put some clothes on, git.”

Alfred does, and when they’re all seated in Arthur’s living room he takes the time to observe the woman before him. _Really_ look at her. She’s sitting with her long legs crossed, calmly smoking one of her cigars, and her platinum blonde hair falls neatly around her. She’s beautiful but what catches his attention the most are her cold, heartless eyes. They’re a vibrant violet; they catch the sunlight streaming through the blinds and make them _shine_. She catches him staring and her lips twitch, almost as if she wants to smile. But she doesn’t.

“So, what was all that commotion about,” his employer begins, “A flashy entrance is unlike you.”

“It was a present. For Francine.” The woman answers without missing a beat. “Too bad she wasn’t around, but it’s okay,” She pulls out a USB from the pocket of her dress, “I video taped it.” She puts it on the coffee table that separates their seats and slides it over to Arthur, “Do tell me if she enjoys it.”

“That’s not a very conventional present.” Arthur says cautiously, but he picks up the USB and stores it in his own pocket.

“I don’t like giving common presents.” She makes a pause and thinks for a moment, “Especially when it’s such an important date.”

Arthur clenches his fists and smiles tightly, “That’s not something normal people remember.”

There’s a long pause and Alfred is lost. Lost because for these people there are years worth of history between them. Whatever the case, the topic is one that no one had ever touched with Alfred. In the two years he had been with them, Francine always disappeared on this particular day and Arthur did nothing but gaze into the ocean. He’d never paid it much thought, always grateful for the day off. But sitting here, with all this unspoken history, it made him want to know.

“That girl,” Their potential customer begins, “I found her hiding in one of my establishments. It seems that it’s not her first time in Roanapur, she was with the Colombian cartel four years back. I…urged her to tell me what she was doing at the time. She confessed to being hired to kill two baby boys.”

He’s never seen Arthur so livid before. Of course he’s seen him angry, quite often he might add, but the rage coming off him was so thick he could almost feel it brushing against his side. It doesn’t take him long to figure out exactly what had happened. And suddenly, he feels anger surge inside him too. Because fucking dammit, he hated Arthur’s guts but he’d never wish that type of suffering on him.

A long time passes in a type of mourning silence. And then, as if nothing had happened, Arthur speaks, “Francine will love your present. I’m sure.”

“I sincerely hope so.”

“So, Anya,” Arthur finally addressed her by name and Alfred recognizes the name almost immediately, “What can we do for you?”

They go into a long conversation about transporting some cocaine from Bangkok to Roanapur and soon theres a set date for their next job. And Anya, undisputed leader of the Russian mafia, is making her way out of their apartment door. Alfred watches through the slit of the blinds as she makes her way down to her cars. The men who had throughout the whole meeting stood there were piling into the cars. Before she climbs into the car however, Anya turns back. She can clearly see his silhouette and her gaze darkens. He’s no longer staring into amethyst colored eyes; instead he’s staring into a dark, never-ending abyss.

* * *

 

He’s not entirely sure how or when it happens, but months after that first meeting he’s sharing the bed of the most powerful woman in Roanapur. (A feat very much admirable.)

Only a select few know. His employer and Francine by default, Toris, Anya’s second in command, Sakura, who had done nothing to hide her disapproval and Matthew, whom he still kept in contact with despite the fact he was a wanted criminal.

There’s something exhilarating about being with Anya that trumps the alcohol and the heroin. She’s a drug he’d willingly come addicted to. He doesn’t have nightmares anymore. He’s not sure why that is, it could be that he’s finally come to terms with the fact that he’d have to kill to survive or maybe it was the security that being Anya’s boy toy brought.

She was possessive, controlling, and ready to torture anyone who’d cross him. At first, he wasn’t comfortable with it, but he realized that the more she trusted him, the more freedom she gave him. And soon, it turned into a regular interdependent relationship. The normal kind where both parties needed each other and thus provided a stable path for growth.

Alfred would kill for her. No questions asked. (He’d done it before.) And she would do the same.

Marriage and children are out of the question. Not here. Not anywhere. Because they would be followed to the ends of the earth by ghost of their pasts. So they don’t even try. They’re fine where they are.

They have it all. Even if they’re both in the brink of insanity.

He’s amazed by just how well Anya controls her men. They’re fiercely loyal to her, so loyal, that if she told them jump off a bridge, they would. Willingly and they’d go down praising their beloved older sister. It’s strangely fascinating to watch them; amusing even. Because Anya, despite being one of the most loyal people he knows, to both himself and her _comrades_ , would choose him over them any day. This fact, of course, is only known to himself. Anya will probably never even realize it. Or if she does, it’ll be years from now, when she’s in too deep to let go of him.

On a warm night, just after a bout of lovemaking, with a sick, warm, destructive curl in his stomach he realizes that he has total control of the most powerful woman in Roanapur, maybe even the entire Southeast Asian continent. He has her riding him, withering under him, screaming his name, and completely vulnerable to only himself. It’s a privilege he has no intention of ever letting go.

In exchange, he’ll give her his all. She’ll be number one and she’ll have complete access to the best assassin Roanapur has ever seen. He’ll be her support and her fortitude until his last breath left his body. He’d never let her suffer again and he’d indulge her in all her childish requests. And even the not-so-childish ones.

On a regular weekly meeting between Anya and himself the woman reveals to him how she ended up in this shit city. She’d been the daughter of a Soviet war general, one who had taught her everything there was to know about long range shooting and being in command. The lessons hadn’t come easy, there were scars everywhere on her body, and when her father passed away, he’d left her with a terrible debt. She joined the military and when the military failed her, she took her platoon and taken half of Roanapur from the Triad.

It hadn’t been easy, because Wang Yao wasn’t someone who gave up without a fight, but she had earned her spot among the four most powerful people in Roanapur. Ever since then she had done everything she could to expand her influence. She did something the Triad, the Columbian cartel, and the Italian mafia could never do. She took Roanapur in a tight grip and organized the city according to her best interest. And because she was a ex-military captain and her strategic thought process was hard to follow and understand, none of the other three bosses knew it. She could tip the scales at any given moment and win it all. She would someday. And Alfred would be there to dispose of the resistance.

It takes Alfred an entire year after first meeting Anya to finally let go of his past and fall into her embrace without remorse. He forgets his home and loving family, Matthew too (because he deserved so much better than half-hearted sentiments and empty promises), he forgets the feel of the football in his hands and trades it for the cool steel of his handguns, he forgets his fuck up at the CIA, and instead becomes eager at the notion of evading the hounds that would surely come after him.

He forgets and forgets and forgets. Until the only thing left is his name, Alfred Fucking Jones, Anya, and the city that was hell on earth.


End file.
